


We're Not Broken, Just Bent

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucifer, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 09:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer never leaves, and Dean never gives up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Not Broken, Just Bent

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Sam and Dean get together, but sex doesn't do anything for Sam anymore post-hell/hallucifer/trials trauma. Sam likes the physical intimacy and wants Dean to have a good time enough to have sex anyway, but Dean makes a project out of finding what Sam enjoys and what it takes to rev him up again. Cue patient, comforting, exploratory sex. Talkiness or goofiness would be most welcome too.

Sam still sees him. At random points during the day and night now, with no real trigger. He's usually in the mirror when Sam's brushing his teeth, hiding out in the corner of the room when Sam attempts research, and pacing the floor when Sam tries to sleep. Lucifer is always in the background. A permanent fixture in Sam's life.  
  
The wound on his hand helps sometimes. Lucifer flickers in and of of sight until he finally disappears. It's rarely for more than few minutes now, but it's enough. Sam can relax when Lucifer isn't whispering in his ear, telling Sam to come back to hell or insisting that he's still there. He'll always still be there.  
  
"Sam?" Dean's always asking in the middle of the night. Somehow he knows, even when Sam doesn't tell him. "He's not there. Promise."  
  
Sam knows, but that doesn't change anything. He closes his eyes and allows Dean to rub circles along his chest and stomach until they slow, eventually stop, and Dean's rhythmic breathing fills whatever small room they've rented out on that particular night.  
  
If he's lucky, the sounds lulls Sam into his own sleep. If not — which is the most common, the occurrence that Sam is always expecting — Lucifer comes back into his vision with a smirk on his face and the usual quips he must have invented wherever he goes when Sam forces him away.  
  
"Sammy. What did I tell you about relying on big brother?"  
  
Sam rolls over in bed and Dean moves with him, hands never leaving Sam's body.  
  
"It's a shame, really. That being with me could somehow  _raise_  your morals. For most it's quite the opposite. Like Nick, or Adam, or  _Dean_."  
  
Sam knows Dean never spent even one second in the cage, but that still doesn't stop Sam's body from clenching up at the thought. Dean still spent time in hell, and Sam doesn't know the half of what happened there.  
  
The bed dips. Lucifer's on it. "Was it really all bad? I ruled down there, I looked after you."  
  
 _Yeah. Right._  If looking after Sam meant allowing him to be torn apart, to be set on fire, to be —. No. Lucifer didn't take care of him at all.  
  
Sam squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his thumb into the palm of his hand. The bed sways, stops suddenly, and when Sam opens his eyes Lucifer is gone. Sam sighs and threads his fingers over Dean's.  
  
  
  
  
In the morning, Lucifer's back. Sitting at the table of the tiny kitchenette, across from Dean who's sipping coffee and pooling over a newspaper.  
  
"Rise and shine, Sammy," Lucifer calls.  
  
When he stretches, Sam manages to aggravate the wound on his hand and Lucifer waves goodbye. Sam's starting to think he leaves on his own accord now, that he's playing Sam and one day will never leave again. Sam has no idea what he'll do when that happens.  
  
Dean looks up and gives a small smile. "Hey. Wondered when you were gonna open your eyes."  
  
“Tired," Sam says to Dean. He thrusts his head toward the paper. "Found any hunts?"  
  
Dean folds the newspaper and throws it onto the seat where Lucifer was sitting. Sometimes, if he stares hard enough, Sam thinks he can see the outline of Lucifer everywhere.  
  
"Nope," Dean says. "This place is Dullsville. The sooner we get moving again, the better."  
  
That's always how Dean deals with things. From one hunt to the next, killing as many monsters as they can find. Sam gets it. It's probably better than staying in the same place, anyway. Sam should take a page out of his brother’s book. Lucifer will always be around. Sam can't tame him simply by staying in the same room day after day.  
  
"But not yet," Dean says. Sam sends him a questioning look. "Raining buckets out there, man. We're stay in today."  
  
It is. Sam hadn't even noticed, too intent on keeping Lucifer at bay. Things have been like that lately. He keeps forgetting everything because he needs to forget the devil.  
  
"Oh," Sam says, because he can't think of anything else.  
  
"Yep." With that, Dean gets up off his seat and walks over to the bed, dropping to the side he's since designated as his — always closest to the door, and he thinks Sam doesn't notice — and moving to look down at Sam. "Sure we can find more interesting ways to pass the time."  
  
Sam doesn't doubt that. Ever since they started this — perhaps aptly, the night before Sam said "yes" to the very thing he's now trying to run away from — Dean's been prepared to jump Sam whenever they've got a spare second alone. Or even when they don't. Sam should have taken his brother as someone open minded enough to proposition public sex. Dean kisses Sam, his mouth tinged with the bitterness of motel grade coffee. That's always the taste. Occasionally Sam might catch alcohol or double-bacon cheeseburgers, but usually Dean's mouth is coated in instant coffee.  
  
"Shirt off," Dean says as he trails his fingers under the fabric. His thumbs slide along Sam's waist, circle the jut of his hipbones. "Why're you wearing it anyway?"  
  
"Cold," Sam says, like a reflex. But he pulls the t-shirt over his head and tosses it to the floor. He doesn't tell Dean that Lucifer staring at him is even more unnerving when he's baring skin.  
  
"I can think of one way to warm you up." Dean grins and kisses him again, the cheesiness of the line lost on him, or maybe embraced. It's hard to tell with Dean. But Sam still accepts it, because it's Dean. And he's pretty damn good at kissing.  
  
"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. You never learn, do you?" Sam doesn't even react anymore. He keeps his eyes closed and combs his fingers through Dean's hair. If he just blocks Lucifer out, maybe...maybe he'll eventually disappear. Grow bored and stay out of Sam's mind.  
  
Or maybe not. "At least Dean had an excuse. He'd been to hell. Maybe he's not all back. But  _you_ , Sam, you started this long before we ever became bunk buddies."  
  
Dean's mouth drops to Sam's neck, sucking kisses into the skin, and Sam can see Lucifer now. He's perched on the table, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. Sam can't even read the emotion on his face. Or maybe there isn't an emotion. He is the devil after all. Can he even feel?  
  
 _Yea_ h, Sam's mind supplies.  _Yeah, he can feel_. He could feel pain when Michael attacked. He could feel a kind of rage Sam had never seen in anyone or anything on earth — and that includes all demons, poltergeists, and monsters he’s ever faced. Sometimes Lucifer even felt fear, but he usually locked Sam away from that.  
  
"Good?" Dean asks. He always asks that now.  
  
Sam drops his eyes away from Lucifer. "Yeah."  
  
"Perfectly good here," Lucifer says. Sam's glad Dean never has to hear any of this.  
  
Dean's hand lowers and cups Sam through his boxers, and Sam has to close his eyes because he can't stand having Lucifer there. With his eyes closed, Lucifer's voice seems further away.  
  
"Really, Sammy?" Lucifer asks. His voice might be far away, but it’s not unintelligible. "Still haven't learnt?"  
  
To get rid of the rest of him, Sam digs his hand into Dean's back. He can almost  _hear_  the flicker now. Probably can, from inside his head. It's all in his head. Sometimes Sam thinks these motel rooms are illusions. That even Dean isn't real. He tries not to sigh or do anything to let Dean know Lucifer was just in this room. Freaking Dean out even more than he already has isn't in the agenda; he's supposed to be making Dean stepping stone number one. And he is trying. It's just hard.  
  
"Come on" Sam says. He never knows how long Lucifer will stay gone anymore.  
  
Of course Dean doesn't listen. He slides his hands under the elastic waistband of Sam's shorts and starts working against his cock. "Like that?"  
  
Sam reaches down and presses Dean's hand further back, shivering as Dean's finger presses over his hole. "Come on, Dean," he repeats.  
  
Sam wants this. Wants Dean inside him, wants to feel all of him. Lucifer in the background is just a price to pay for everything and he's not real.  _Not real, not real, not real_.  
  
"You really want this?" Another thing Dean's taken to always asking.  
  
"Yeah," Sam says, just like he always does.  
  
"Want me to fuck you?" There's no confidence in Dean's voice.  
  
"God," Sam says. He might be able to keep the relief about Lucifer's disappearance from his voice, but not the frustration of Dean's constant questioning. "Yeah. Of course I do."  
  
"Only had to say yes," Dean says before kissing him again and tugging down his boxers.  
  
Dean's lips never leave Sam's skin. Finding his mouth, his cheeks, his neck. Down to his chest and stomach, and sliding his tongue down between the lines near his hips. Slow, so agonisingly slow, and Sam doesn't have time for slow. Not when the dark places of his mind are in control. Sam reaches out, pulls at Dean's own shorts until Dean let's him take them off, and then wraps his hand around his brother’s already hard cock.  
  
Dean’s hips move forward at the touch. At least by doing this Dean's mind will be elsewhere, stopping him from constantly asking if this is good for Sam, if Sam wants it — and Dean says Sam is the woman who always wants to cuddle and talk about feelings. A momentarily distracted Dean also means that Sam can quickly let go of his cock and flip onto his own stomach.  
  
"Never let me see you," Dean says.  
  
Sam chances a look over his shoulder and first sees Dean, a look of contemplation on his face, but behind him is Lucifer, and he's the one Sam doesn't want to show anything to.  
  
"You can see me," Sam says. Then adds, trying to keep his tone light, "Don't you like my back?"  
  
Muttering something Sam can't quite make out, Dean leans down and his tongue trails along Sam's spine. It feels good. He never lies to Dean about that. Everything they do together feels good. It's just difficult to really get into it when —  
  
"He said he likes your front better," Lucifer supplies. "And that it's better when you're hard." Then he laughs.  
  
 _Just keep ignoring him_. Sam presses his thumb into the palm of his hand until the laughter stops and it's just his and Dean's breathing again. Sam's picking up when Dean slides a finger inside him.  
  
"Sam," Dean says and Sam's not sure why. But he pushes back against his brother's finger to let him know this is what he wants. That seems to be the right response, because Dean adds another.  
  
"Come on," Sam says. Somehow he can feel Lucifer coming back. A dreading kind of feeling that Sam wishes would just leave him alone. "Dean, come on."  
  
There's an audible sigh from Dean and Sam hates that. He's tried explaining to Dean that he still wants this, that he appreciates it, that he  _likes_  it. Yet every single time they have sex now, Dean either thinks he fails at it or that Sam has stopped being interested in him. Neither could be further from the truth.  
  
"I want you," Sam says, and then pushes further back on the fingers for good measure. Dean's fingers brush over his prostate and Sam lets out a soft sound that he deliberately makes louder.  
  
"Can tell when you're faking it," Dean murmurs right up against his ear. "Don't have to fake for me."  
  
Sam knows he doesn't, but he can’t stand the way Dean’s eyes cloud over afterward and the strained smile that always plays on his face. If Sam has to throw in a few cheap moans to stop his brother from looking like that, so be it.  
  
Dean takes his fingers out and replaces them with the head of his cock that moves in slowly. Too slowly. Sam tries to thrust against it, because that feeling of dread? It's becoming more potent. As if it's sucking the life and space from the room. Sam wants to feel Dean and wants Dean to feel him. And he doesn't want Lucifer to experience any of that.  
  
Finally he feels Dean sink into him, and the groan of relief Sam makes is real. He's glad Dean stops asking questions once he starts moving. Seems to accept that if Sam wanted out he would have left already. Instead, Dean goes with a rambling litany of words. "Fuck," he says as he thrusts forward the first time. Then, "so good" and a breathy, " _god_ ". He moves his hand toward the front of Sam, but Sam spreads his legs and pushes into the bed so Dean can't touch. He feels his brother's hesitation, the way he pauses mid-movement, but Sam looks over his shoulder, makes sure Dean sees him lick his lips, and nods.  
  
That does it for Dean. His hands dig into Sam's hips and he moans out something that sounds vaguely like, "Fuck, I love you". That's all Sam wants to hear. Does enough for him to block out Lucifer's returning existence and focus instead on his brother coming inside of him.  
  
Sam knows Dean will have the clouded-over eyes later, the forced smile, the not-so-subtle questions about why Sam does this when he doesn't appear to get anything out of it. But that's later, and right now it's much easier to move onto his side and clasp Dean's hand against his chest. Even Lucifer staring at them can't ruin that.  
  
  
  
  
A few weeks later, in a new town somewhere on the outskirts of Idaho, Dean comes back to the motel room from the library and dumps a stack of papers on the bed.  
  
"Research," he says rather proudly.  
  
Sam picks up the top sheet, then almost drops it when he sees a photo of two men fucking. "Dude," he says. "There is no case where porn is part of research."  
  
"Not a case." Dean sits on the edge of the bed and takes the page from Sam's hands. He studies it, features mildly curious. "It’s for you and me."  
  
That leaves a lot more questions than it answers, and it must show on Sam's face because Dean huffs out a laugh. "I dunno." He shrugs. "Thought maybe these could help."  
  
"With what?" At the back of his mind, Sam thinks he already knows.  
  
"Oh, come  _on_  Sammy." Lucifer emerges from the shadows where he has been hiding, doing nothing more than watching Sam move around the motel room all morning. "Dean's tired of you. You really think he wants more than brothers if you don't fuck?"  
  
Sam's vaguely aware that Dean keeps speaking, but Lucifer is suddenly right up in his face. Not saying anything, but staring. Always staring. Sam thinks that’s worse than anything he could say.  
  
"Sammy." Dean's hand grips into Sam's shoulder and Lucifer leaves. "You sure you're alright?"  
  
Sam nods again.  
  
Dean keeps looking at him and his face slowly changes from awareness to anger. Or maybe it’s fear. Sam’s never been able to tell the difference when it comes to Dean. "You're still seeing Lucifer, aren't you?"  
  
Sam shakes his head.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Sammy." Dean shifts closer. "Don't you do that."  
  
"Yeah, Sammy, don't do that." Lucifer is in his face. Grinning. "Tell big brother all up your time downstairs and how you've lost your mind. That's what he uses you for, isn't it? His geeky sidekick to do all the research? Though it looks like Dean's learning to do that on his own."  
  
"Hey," Dean says, then closes the distance between them with a kiss. "He's not real. I told you that, yeah?"  
  
"Oh, I'm real. Don't you doubt that."  
  
"Yeah," Sam says to Dean. He swallows. "Yeah, you did."  
  
"Good." Dean cups Sam's jaw and guides him so Sam's view or Lucifer is obstructed. He just sees Dean. "He can't hurt you."  
  
It's not like Sam doesn't already know that. He's spent close to every second of the day trying to drill it into his brain.  _Lucifer isn't real, Lucifer can't hurt him_  — but that doesn't stop Sam from seeing him.  
  
"These print-outs," Dean says, keeping his hand on Sam's face. Keeping him from seeing Lucifer. "They're just...advice. I didn't know..."  
  
Of course he didn't. How could he know? Sam's been trying so hard to hide it. He's actually surprised he succeeded so well until now. Because research into performance issues, really? Dean had gone all out. He didn’t know about Lucifer, couldn’t have.  
  
"Sure he didn't." Lucifer's voice manages to find him, but he can't see the him. And even that helps.  
  
"I know you didn't," Sam says, then kisses Dean again because it's sure as hell better than keeping his eyes open and waiting for Lucifer to re-appear.  
  
"Is he still here?" Dean asks, right against Sam's mouth.  
  
Sam nods, because he's done with lying. Lucifer comes into view with the grin still on his face. Or maybe it's more of a smirk. It doesn't really matter; Sam's mind created the expression.  
  
"I'm real," Dean says. He's not moving, his hands are still on Sam's face and their mouths are still almost touching. "Not him."  
  
"I know," Sam whispers. He doesn't know why he bothers. Lucifer can hear him even when he doesn't say anything out loud.  
  
"Don't I still feel real?" Lucifer taunts. "I'm still inside you. It doesn't matter what Dean says."  
  
Sam has to get rid of him. He doesn't care if Dean sees anymore. He slams his hand against the side of the metal bed frame. He looks back up at Dean who's eyes are downcast. He's seen.  
  
Slowly, Dean's eyes trail back up. "Lay down," he says.  
  
"Don't we have another hunt?" That was why they'd come here after all; to keep hunting the Leviathans and check out a poltergeist while they're at it. Just keep hunting, keep Sam's mind busy. Only it's not working. Hasn't in a long time.  
  
Dean smiles at him. "We can take a break. Lay down, Sammy."  
  
Sam does.  
  
"Not gonna let him hurt you," Dean says. His fingers start slowly with Sam's jeans, popping the button and pulling at the zipper. "You gotta believe that."  
  
Sam really is aware that Lucifer is a hallucination and how Dean is willing to die so nothing can hurt Sam. Both have been proven time and time again. But it's incredibly difficult to focus on anything else when the former still stands in front of him. Watching his every movement.  
  
"Just focus on me," Dean says. He moves back up Sam's body, softly tugging at his shirt until Sam raises his arms and lets Dean pull it off. "Much better without clothes."  
  
More crap that Dean always says, only that comment isn't anywhere near as annoying as the constant, unsure questions he keeps pushing.  
  
Sam smiles at him and pulls off his jeans. "No clothes then."  
  
"That's more like it."  
  
Dean leans down and his teeth gently graze across Sam's jaw. It sends jolting shivers down Sam's spine. Dean ends it with a kiss just behind his ear. "He still gone?" he whispers. Sam nods. "Good."  
  
Sam closes his eyes. He's gone. Really gone. Even his presence can't be felt. No dread, no fear. Just Dean's mouth and tongue slowly pressing down and against Sam's neck. Sam thinks he should probably do something, but when he tries to fit a hand down Dean's pants, Dean stops him.  
  
"For you," he says. "Gonna make this good for you."  
  
Apparently, Dean is yet to clue onto the fact it's always been good for Sam. That's exactly like Dean, and Sam tells him as much.  
  
"Then I'll be selfish and make you feel good for me, okay?"  
  
That makes no sense, but all possible arguments flee from Sam's mind when Dean's hand twists at the head of his cock. Dean has the most fucking talented fingers and Sam hates how he can't appreciate them as he wants to. Because of Lucifer. Always because of Lucifer. And Sam knows he’s back without even looking.  
  
"You're getting real good at knowing that, Sammy," Lucifer says. "Of course you  _should_  be, we are made for each other after—"  
  
"Mine," Dean says right at that second, blocking out the last of Lucifer's speech. "Only mine. Never his."  
  
Never Lucifer's. Not even when he was the vessel. Dean managed to get through. Lucifer was never really the one in control.  
  
"Think that all you want," Lucifer says. "Keep lying to yourself. But you loved it. Loved the power, loved the killing—"  
  
"Stop looking," Dean says. His hands run up and down Sam's sides. "Just look at me, Sammy. Me."  
  
Sam sits up and looks at him. Tries to drown in him. He presses his fingers so hard into his palm he's sure his nails will go through to the other side.  
  
"Can’t do that," Lucifer says. Then fades away. He's in control. He has to be.  
  
"Don't do that." Dean gently pries Sam's hand open. It's bleeding again and Dean sucks in a breath. "Oh, geez—"  
  
"It's okay." Sam shrugs. "Doesn't hurt." It never hurts anymore. The pay-off of getting rid of Lucifer is worth it.  
  
One of Dean's hands curls through Sam's hair. The other continues to cup his palm. "Wait here." He kisses Sam gently before leaving the bed.  
  
Dean moves with purpose across the motel room and drops to his duffel. Sam follows him and sees no Lucifer. Not even in the dark corners or the part of the bathroom he can see with the door left ajar. It's just the two of them. Sam's been wishing for that for a long time now. When Dean comes back to the bed he's holding a bandage. He takes Sam's hand again, blots it with a cloth, and then slowly, wordlessly, begins to wrap it.  
  
Only once he's done does he look at Sam and say, "You don't need to do that."  
  
"Yeah I do," Sam blurts out before he can stop himself. "I gotta get rid of him, Dean, I can't—"  
  
Sam trails off and doesn't know what to say. Just that he  _can't_. He can't keep going with this if Lucifer is always going to be there. Even if he  _dies_  he's not sure what will happen. Does he go back in the cage?  
  
"Shh," Dean murmurs. "We're gonna make him stop, okay? I promise you."  
  
"How?" And he knows how pitiful he sounds, but it hardly seems to matter anymore. Lucifer will be back any second to just keep going and going and going.  
  
"Dunno yet. But we will."  
  
No lies, no bullshit, and Sam thinks that helps the most. At least Dean's not leaving him with empty promises. This is a little more tangible; a little more possible. He clutches onto it with all ten fingers and refuses to ever let go.  
  
"But until then..." Dean presses their foreheads together and the words are warm over Sam's face. "...you wanna lay down again?"  
  
While Lucifer's gone he always does. Dean presses Sam back softly before throwing a leg over his thighs, straddling him. Even if Lucifer comes back Sam won't be able to see him because Dean’s so close and covering everything else.  
  
"Right now I can take your mind off things." Dean smiles and kisses Sam, his tongue tracing over Sam's lower lip. Sam opens his mouth willingly and lets the heat of Dean's mouth hit his.  
  
"Riddle me this, Sammy: I'm at a point where I no longer find this disgusting. What does that say about me?"  
  
Sam feels himself stop against Dean's lips and can't make himself keep moving. When Lucifer spoke about him and Dean in the cage, it was always with light amusement. Only out here does he manage to sound horrified. Sam hadn't questioned what he and Dean had when it started. It felt almost natural, like things were finally going the way they needed to. Playing their roles, just like they were told. And then he came back and everything felt right again. Until Lucifer appeared.  
  
"Sam," Dean says. "Sammy. Me, okay?"  
  
Sam reaches up and grasps Dean's hair, pulling him back down for another kiss. Dean responds, but Lucifer is still in the background.  
  
"You'd think, being the devil, it wouldn't bother me. But I'm also an angel, and you were my  _vessel_ , so I may be taking it a little more personally."  
  
A  _vessel_. That's all Sam was. He lowers his hands on Dean, pulling at his shirt, but Dean stops him again. "Just lay back, baby."  
  
"Baby," Lucifer says. "Huh, that's a new one. Fitting. You being his  _baby_  brother and all..."  
  
Brothers. That's what they are. That's never changed. But the way Dean looks at him has, even Lucifer can't change Sam's mind about loving the alterations.  
  
Sam stays still, but when Dean's head drops to circle his tongue over Sam's nipple, Lucifer is right there. Back to staring with a blank expression on his face. Sam closes his eyes and tries to go with it because he does like it. Likes the way Dean feels against him. But he knows Lucifer is still there. Will always still be there.  
  
"Dean..." he says and moves back. It doesn't matter if Lucifer is only part of his mind, it's still too unnerving to do this. Especially because if he let's himself go, he has no idea how much control Lucifer will gain.  
  
"You don't trust me?" Dean says. He's sitting up again and Lucifer's suddenly not behind him. Gone on his own accord. Again.  
  
"I trust you. I just..." He closes his eyes, breathes. " I like having sex with you, okay? I really do. But with Lucifer right  _there_  it's just..."  
  
"Okay," Dean says gently. "I get that. So here's what we're gonna do." Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blue bandanna. He holds it up in front of Sam's eyes."What about if you can't see him?" Dean asks.  
  
Sam studies the bandanna before slowly trailing his eyes up to meet Dean's. "Better.”  
  
"Can I...?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Dean’s eyes are intense as he brings the bandanna forward and slides it over Sam's own eyes. Sam feels Dean reach behind and tie it into a lose knot, but he can't see anything beyond blackness.  
  
"Do you really think this is a smart idea?" Sam jolts up at the sound of Lucifer's voice right by his ear. No, this was a smart idea. This a stupid, idiotic idea. Sam goes to tear off the bandanna, but then hands are on his wrists and they're definitely not Lucifer's.  
  
"You want it off?" Dean's voice is in his ear now. Soft. Nothing like Lucifer's.  
  
"No." Sam thinks he mouths the word rather than saying it of loud.  
  
"Okay." Dean's voice still at his ear, still soft. "Just focus on my voice."  
  
"I'll just drown Dean out." Lucifer's at Sam's other ear now.  _Loud_. And Sam can't block it out.  
  
But he lays back and feels Dean follow, his lips grazing over Sam's skin. "Gotta tell me what you like. Anything you want."  
  
"Could've been like that for us, Sam." Lucifer is so loud, his voice ringing through Sam’s brain even after he finishes speaking. "I would've done anything for you if you hadn't betrayed me!"  
  
 _Betray him_? Lucifer  _kne_ w he and Dean were never planning to play by the rules. Sam wants to tell him as much, but doesn't need to because Lucifer knows everything Sam knows. Instead his hands search for Dean's back and find it. Warm, solid, broad. And he find scars now, can feel the slight raises of skin against his fingertips. He could name them all if he wanted to. Attribute the creature, the state, the year. Dean presses a kiss right by Sam's ear and it's oddly loud, especially when he can't see anything. Dean follows with his lips against Sam's neck. Then Lucifer is there. Sam knows he is, just by the faint smell of charred flesh coming from him that Sam's never noticed before.  
  
"Do you remember your soul burning?" Lucifer still sounds loud, but he's further away now.  
  
Yeah. He does. But that doesn't matter. He's back. Back with a soul that is still working, still functioning even if it was Lucifer's bitch.  
  
"Tell me," Dean says. His words dance warmth across Sam's shoulder. "Know you like it when I bite your neck."  
  
Sam can feel Dean smile before his teeth bite down, gently, and Sam knows it's not quite enough to draw blood. Dean does it again, licks over the mark.  
  
"Gotta relax, Sammy," Dean says.  
  
Sam tries. He closes his eyes against the darkness of the bandanna and just tries to feel. But its hard. He's expecting Lucifer to start speaking again at any moment. He tries to focus on Dean's touch, guessing where his hands and mouth will move next. Across his shoulder, down his arms, then suddenly at the center of his chest, tongue swirling before licking a strip downward.  
  
"Talk to me, Sam," Dean says.  
  
And Sam is so expecting a comeback from Lucifer that he tenses his entire body, losing the ability to focus on Dean. And then...nothing. Not a sound, not a touch apart from Dean's. Just Dean.  
  
"Yeah," Sam says. "Whatever you do is good."  _Awesome_  might be a better word, or Sam seriously needs a thesaurus to find a perfect synonym.  _Perfect_. Actually, that fits.  
  
"I know that." He feels Dean grin against his stomach, lips parting and teeth grazing gently. "But what am I fantastic at?"  
  
 _Everything_. Absolutely fucking everything. "Mouth," Sam says, though, because Dean's mouth is the first thing that started this. When he kissed him after Sam said he was going to do it. He was going to say yes. Best kiss of Sam's entire life.  
  
"Where?" Dean's near his face, their mouths must be almost touching. "Tell me where."  
  
"Can you—" Sam pauses. "Can you take off the blindfold?"  
  
Dean gives an immediate, "yes" and reaches behind Sam's head.  
  
Sam just wants to see Dean. Wants to know he's there and  _Dean_. Not the latest in Lucifer's creations, just Sam's big brother, Sam’s  _world_. Lucifer hasn't come back yet. He's been gone longer than ever before. Sam counts that as a win. When the fabric falls away Sam has to blink back at the lightly lit room. He focuses on Dean who's still smiling, but Sam can see now that it's a wary smile that doesn't reach his eyes.  
  
"Mouth," Sam repeats. He kisses Dean, slowly, until he feels Dean smile into it. "Everywhere."  
  
"Needa be more specific, Sammy." Dean says. The smile he has now reaches his whole face and that's the smile Sam loves to see.  
  
"Start at my neck." He puts his head back. "And move down."  
  
Seems to be enough of an answer, because Dean starts doing just that. Sucks a mark into Sam's neck before kissing over it. Moving lower, from right to left, and Sam just keeps his head back and eyes on the ceiling. Most of all, he feels it. Every touch from Dean sends waves from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, taking a pit stop at his cock that's starting to stir beneath his boxers. It doesn't seem to take Dean much longer than Sam to notice, and he mouths against the cotton, wet and warm.  
  
"Mmm," Dean murmurs and Sam feels the vibrations through every part of him. "That's what I've been waiting for."  
  
Too long. It's been too long since Dean's gotten that reaction. Now there's no Lucifer to ruin anything and Sam intends to focus everything he possibly can on that. Especially when Dean pulls down his boxers and his mouth runs along Sam's bare cock.  
  
"Real good, Sammy."  
  
Sam looks down at Dean and then looks around the room. There's no Lucifer. His eyes go back to his brother who's kneeling between his legs, mouth still at work. Watching it makes it even better, and he hasn't been able to do that in so long without Lucifer being in the background. Now he can stare and run his hands through Dean's hair as he takes Sam's cock deeper, moves his tongue over a head in a way that always leaves Sam a garbled mess of clenched hands or wordless groans. Dean knows it, too. Sam wasn't lying when he said everything Dean did was perfect; he knows Sam's body better than Sam knows his own. He figured out the hallucinations before Sam could even start to wrap his head around the possibility. End of the day, Dean's the reason why Sam isn't in hell or dead yet. Only Dean.  
  
"Fuck—" Sam almost yells when Dean brings his mouth up only to push it straight back down again, taking all of Sam in one go. "Holy — fuck Dean."  
  
Dean pulls off again. "Yeah? You like that?"  
  
"Not porn," Sam says at Dean's choice of words, though he's not sure how he's making coherent thought or speech right now.  
  
"Legitimate question," Dean says. He kisses the top of Sam's cock. "I want you to tell me what you like."  
  
"Already told you." Sam runs his fingers through Dean's hair. " _Everything_."  
  
"Specifics." Dean's hand starts slow, languid strokes on Sam's cock, pausing at the head to rub his thumb over the slit.  
  
"That."  
  
"Show me."  
  
Sam licks his lips, not sure what to do, but Dean's smile is still there. Reassuring. And his hand keeps moving, sending pulses of pleasure through Sam's body each time. Sam sits up and moves his hand to cover Dean's.  
  
"That's it."  
  
It's not the most comfortable position — his fingers twined with Dean's — but even the slightest of movement is putting Sam right on the edge. He finally starts considering that Dean is probably at a similar state and uses his free hand to push against his brother's jeans.  
  
"Nuh-uh," Dean says, and moves Sam's hand away. "This is about you." Dean shifts closer. "Love seeing you like this."

"Make a deal," Sam says. It's difficult to get the words out, and they're more like caught breath than eloquent speech. "Fuck."  
  
Dean runs his thumb over the head of Sam's cock again. "Fuck as a noun or verb?"  
  
"Both?"  
  
"Alrighty."  
  
When Dean shucks off his jeans, Sam knows he was right. Dean's hard, ready, and he lets Sam reach out and touch. Finally. And Sam does, as much as he possibly can. Because Lucifer isn't around to destroy this, to yell insults in his ear, to make Sam question everything he knows is good and right despite anything else.  
  
"You good?" Dean asks.  
  
"Great," Sam says, and he means it. Really.  
  
Dean pulls his jeans from the floor and reaches into the pocket, pulling out a tube of lube. He doesn't any longer than necessary to open it, squeeze some onto his fingers, and press two straight into Sam. Sam gasps. Actually gasps, and it's far fake. Dean knows of course, and he's smiling at Sam. All the way to his eyes. He adds another finger, twists them until Sam can't stop the sounds that come from his mouth and begs Dean for "more, more." Dean obliges, lubing up his cock and pressing it into Sam.  
  
"I will  _never_ let him do anything to you," Dean says.  
  
Lucifer doesn't appear. Lucifer doesn't speak. Lucifer doesn't bring his presence back.  
  
It's Sam and Dean in the motel room, and it's perfect.


End file.
